Oxygen
by Izuku
Summary: "Why did they cut off my supply?" (Your normal reincarnation/OC-insert/slight-SI story. Rated T for language.)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, just Lucas.  
** **Beware of bad writing, and slight self-insert.**

 **Oxygen**

Breathe in...

and breathe out.

Breathe in...

 _I was scared. I was scared. Yep, I was fucking_ scared _. The hums of chatter around me, the occasional instances of laughter, the reassuring tone of my mother did nothing to ease my nerves. Nothing possibly could, not when there was the constant underlying thought of... being so high up in the sky..._

 _My mother and I, we were on our way to Florida due to our vacation time getting eaten up. While I appreciated the beauty of Jamaica, the country we visited for a full week, all good things come to an end. In my honest opinion, we definitely should have stayed. There was only so much money in our pockets though... at least we managed to save for our trip in the first place._

 _But, eh, c'est la vie. I just couldn't wait for my feet to reach solid ground. Yes... the solid and firm land of the Earth. It called my name, I know it did!_

Breathe out...

 _Only thirty minutes into the flight and my mother already drifted off. For as long as I could remember, she always seemed tired, whether that came from her demeanor or exhausted brown eyes, I didn't know. People told me I was the same way, as if it would upset me and inspire change. Hah! Joke's on them. My mom didn't influence my personality, it's just natural for me to be lazy and sleepy as shit._

 _Maybe in this case, I was a contradiction, because I was as awake and alert as ever during the entirety of our short airplane ride._

Breathe in...

 _The plane was shaking._

 _When I say shaking, I mean_ shaking _._

 _It swayed from side to side, rapidly moved up and down. Little kids were screaming and most of the adults were starting to panic as well. The alarm went off. My mother had woken up and grasped my hand, giving it a tight, yet comforting squeeze although I could see the fear on her face. I swear, I felt like fainting. I felt like dying just to get it over with, and I had to stop from slapping myself because there were still people I had to live for. But I also felt like kicking the windows until they cracked or opened or whatever else – something in my mind told me "you'll just be wasting your time, bud" – before jumping outside like I was a badass at skydiving. Let me tell you now, I'm not._

 _Plus, it'd still be a one way ticket to my demise._

 _Before I could try to calm my rapid fire thoughts, before I could try to stop myself from screeching at the top of my lungs, the plane had begun to go down. In that moment, my heart graduated from marathon runner to_ Olympic _runner, or perhaps it boosted itself up to a sports car. Then there was a horrible, familiar twist in the depths of my gut as gravity took control, like I was on a roller coaster in the clouds._

Breathe out...

 _I never "liked" roller coasters all that much._

Breathe in...

 _We were going down,_ holy shit we were actually in a spiral towards our deaths.

 _I shared a look with my mother, staring into those clear, chocolate dyed orbs she called eyes, yet taking in the entirety of her features. I finally squeezed her hand back before stealing a glance through our window._

Breathe out...

 _Blue never looked so terrifying._

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

Stop.

* * *

Lucas Arroyo, age fifteen, took his last Breathe on July 14th.

Izuku Midoriya was born on July 15th.

 _Let's start that again._

 _Breathe in..._


	2. Izuku Midoriya

**Disclaimer: I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, just Lucas.  
** **Beware of really bad writing, and slight self-insert.**

 **P.S Thanks for all the support; this story blew up really quickly. I hope I can (somehow) meet everyone's expectations. Updates should also come every other weekend from now on.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Izuku Midoriya**

Anyone who says your entire life flashes before your eyes in your final moments – every last day to every last minute to every last second – is a liar. Call them out on it. Show no hesitation and no mercy.

When you _die_ like I did, first is the pain, then it's cold, then it's dark.

I have no idea why that's the case, why I might have gone mad if not for being able to sense my beating heart, or move my skinny fingers. It seemed like I was alive, but I know I died. I did. I did. I could remember the screams, the panic, the terrified gaze of my mother, the painful crash. Everything was still fresh in my mind, as if it all occurred seconds ago.

However, the darkness... that had surrounded me for what felt like hours. Countless hours. I wasn't tired, so I couldn't sleep. I couldn't see, nor could I hear, so I was frightened at the prospect of exploring my surroundings. I was never the brave type, I have to admit. I'd always smother my curiosity of the unknown.

What I couldn't bear however, was the thought of wasting away.

No family, no friends, no light, no sound. _Nothing_. I refused to spend my precious time swallowed up in darkness.

So I mustered up what little courage I had before taking one step forward. Then another step, and another, and another, and I kept going until something forced me to stop.

It was not some unnatural force, no, because I wouldn't have felt so calm. Instead... I can't explain. A gut-feeling, perhaps. Something told me I had to stop or else I'd waste my one chance, which puzzled me. What chance? I was _dead_ , there was no chance left for me. The thought did wonders in pissing me off.

But I wasn't given the opportunity to dwell on it.

A bony, pale white hand rose from the surface beneath my feet and curled its fingers around my ankle, swiftly yanking me through the floor.

And I was screaming the whole way down.

It took some time before I had landed on something, using my back and head to "cushion" my fall. I felt the wind get knocked out of my system, and a gasp escaped my mouth as pain overwhelmed my senses, but I did not move. I merely laid there, still as I tried to blink away the darkness flooding the corners of my vision. It did nothing.

What the hell? What was that? _Who_ was that? Why did they slam me into the ground so... _hard_ , so... badly...

I struggled to breathe. Hell, I was wheezing like my smoker of a grandfather. My body was anything but durable. That was a fact. Did they know? Whoever grabbed me, were they trying to knock me out... ?

And why, pray tell, did they believe it was a good idea... to steal my ability of breathing in oxygen?

No... why did they try to cut off my supply in the first place?

* * *

" _I came, I saw... then I cried like a bitch." - Lucas_

* * *

I had awoken to blinding lights and the sound of foreign voices.

There was an obnoxious ringing in my ears as I grimaced, not wanting to be blinded anytime soon. Where was I? The question echoed within my mind, but it was temporarily forgotten as sudden warmth came in contact with my body. Hands. The warmth felt like it was emanating from a large pair of hands, and arms, and I couldn't shake the fear that leaked into my mind.

I was still running on the high from what happened to me; it all came in flashes, and yet... I didn't truly feel threatened. Not like in the darkness, not like in the plane crash. It was a strange mix of peace and apprehension. I... hated _all of it_.

 _Where was I? Why couldn't I be left alone?_

For some reason, I could hear the voices starting to panic... as if there some kind of emergency, and they were being forced to rush. Rush for what? My vision had started to adjust to the lightning, yet it was still blurred and put into monochrome. I had no idea as to what was going on around me... Man, I was starting to lose it.

I slowly took in a deep breath before a pitiful whimper left my mouth, and suddenly, everything stopped. The voices silenced themselves. If I was lost before, nothing could compare to what I felt in those short moments. Depression, irritation, fear, it all hit me like a freight train. I was unable to keep a grip on my emotions – no, I do not know _why_ – and... and...

I cried.

Like a little bitch.

I was wailing, and I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I didn't know how to stop.

Then the warmth that had surrounded me before left, and I was forced to confront an abrupt blast of cold air. It made me cry harder.

… Until the warmth returned.

I could feel a heartbeat, the gentle rocking and soft murmurs that ensued... it put me under a spell that I am grateful for, because within minutes, I found myself drifting off into a deep sleep.

It wasn't until days later that I realized I was a fucking infant.

* * *

One month into this new life and my senses were a complete wreck. My hearing and vision were, of course, not as good as in my previous body... but they were developing, and at a swift pace I might add. The most of what I could make out was a woman with green hair, and a large, inviting pair of emerald green eyes. She made me feel safe. There was also a man, but he was not around as often...

Two months into this new life and I was drowning in sadness. My friends were gone, my sister was gone, my mother... my _first_ mother...

Six months into this new life and the woman, who I came to know as "mom number two," made a new friend. This friend of hers had a son... who honestly got on every last one of my nerves. _Dammit, he wouldn't stop bawling!_

They spoke Japanese, too. I guess that's cool.

Aside from new faces and annoying children, I also came across my mother effortlessly floating small portions of laundry back and forth. Without a doubt, I knew I was too young for drugs and therefore, I _knew_ I was not high. (Not like I've ever experienced such a feeling, anyhow.) So, how on earth...

One year into this new life and my "father" walked out the door. Good riddance. For those past few weeks, I could tell my mother hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. I tried, I tried to keep down my cries for food and fresh diapers so she could rest, but that man continued pushing her to the brink. The arguments, the screaming, the tears... if that bastard hadn't left... Good riddance. Thankfully, my mother's friend would comfort her when I was not able to. Oh, but the lady would bring her annoying son, and ever since we could "properly" communicate, I'd wanted to throttle him.

I found out a small portion of my name as well. Something starting with "Izu." I was unable to to find out the rest, because I was mostly called "Izu-chan."

One year and four months into this new life and I actually took a moment to inspect my facial features. Green was my favorite color, but... maybe this was a bit much. I was almost the spitting image of my mother, her in a tiny male form. My hair was curly to the roots, and my eyes were gigantic, all sharing the color green. There were freckles peppered across my cheeks, which I honestly didn't mind. Freckles were okay.

The most unsettling part was that I seemed horribly familiar...

Two years into this new life and I saw him.

It was an old video of course; my mother was surfing the web and I had quietly joined in. She seemed to appreciate my company, yet was hesitant to let me watch along with her. I managed to stay in the end.

There was some kind of incident going on which, if anything, reminded me of 9/11. If I was able to care more, I would say it looked terrifying... and like a horror movie, I had the urge to watch until the very end.

And not even a quarter into the video did I see the cause of my future stress and pain, heroically carrying people on his strong, intimidating back.

… Dammit. Dammit, dammit, shit, dammit, SHIT.

What... what are the odds I'd be reborn into such a world? Actually, how did I not notice it before? All of the dots were connecting. I'm a freakin' idiot.

All Might.

The future bane of my existence.

And me? Well, I was "Izu-chan."

 _Izuku Motherfucking Midoriya._


	3. Preparation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Boku no Hero Academia, just Lucas.**

 **Beware of really bad writing, and slight self-insert.**

 **Now you may be wondering: Izuku, what took you so long to update this fic? Well it's your lucky day because I do in fact have the questions to your answers. Yes, you just read that correctly. Long story short… high school can kiss my ass. Yes, that was not a question. This probably doesn't make any sense to you because it's an inside joke. Just go on and read my update like a good samaritan.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Preparation**

I was akin to a deer caught in headlights, watching the computer screen as if it'd just foretold my death.

But was that not the case?

A number of events flooded into my mind... the slug villain, the attack on USJ, that god-forsaken sports festival, _Stain_. However, what truly frightened me, what truly forced my eyes to twitch and my hands to tremble and goosebumps to rise on my skin, was how blind I'd be.

Of course I'd read the source material. I knew the story, not all of it, but to a certain extent. I could recall major events of course, such as when Izuku — or _I_ am supposed to receive All Might's powers. However, even a single step, a single _glance_ in the wrong direction could put everything I knew in danger. The future… was extremely dark.

If my mother noticed my sudden epiphany, she said nothing. But it was her soft, caring touch that took me out of my stupor. Her hands found their way through my sea of green locks, which did an exceptional job at calming me down.

… Perhaps that could be a pokemon move. _Inko Midoriya used Mother's Touch! It was super effective!_

"Well, would you look at that. It's getting late, Izu-chan," she hummed as my eyes traveled to corner of the computer screen, realizing that she was right, "Let's get you ready for bed, okay?"

I simply nodded, allowing her to lift me up and into a set of warm, inviting arms. It was strange to me, the way my eyelids began to flutter close, and how my body began to squirm within my mother's hold as I tried to get comfortable. My thoughts threatened to devolve into a jumbled mess as sudden exhaustion overtook me. I truly felt like a toddler, despite the fact my conscious belonged to that of a fifteen — damn, I mean seventeen — year old boy. (Was I really seventeen? It didn't feel that way. I hadn't matured in the slightest.) With a single gesture, my worries of just moments ago had almost been replaced, and in favor of... bed time. It was frustrating.

How could I relax and pretend there was nothing wrong with the world's future? How could I relax when Izuku — when _I_ was given the responsibility of becoming some dumbass hero? A good-for-nothing like me, destined to saving simpletons with a great, big, cheesy smile on my face... That isn't what I wanted. Hell, I didn't even know what I truly wanted out of life.

But getting my ass kicked by Bakubombtastic, or even Tododorki, was not number one on my list, let me tell you that.

I wish I had the ability to change my future without giving two shits, and live life the way _I_ wanted to. However… the fact remains that I couldn't be playing God; it was too much of a risk otherwise, wasn't it? I wouldn't know about the negative effects I'd be creating, right? I could be toying with people's lives and have absolutely no idea … dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit all to hell. Fuck.

Why me, of all people? Why made _me_ so special?

As my mother set me down into my bed, it really did look as if I had no problems with the world. I was only two years old after all; I was young and innocent and ignorant.

If it only it was like that in reality.

* * *

" _Does Japan have churros with cheese dip? … Anyone?" - Lucas_

* * *

Looking back on my first two years, I had kind of... screwed up, hadn't I?

I was never one for being patient. Not once could I recall waiting quietly in my past life, no matter if I was in a fast food restaurant, at school, or within the confines of my own home. Taking that into consideration... would a six month old child attempting to walk startle anyone? Or even forming their first word at only three months? (Shockingly, picking up Japanese was not an impossible task. Daunting, but not impossible.) It was a mistake to ignore my mother's reactions; I couldn't tell if I gave the impression that I was a genius, or that something was downright wrong.

Thankfully, she never seemed to expect much of me. At the same time, she also expected too _little_.

But then again, perhaps that was to be expected. My body was small and fragile and I had already acknowledged that; I bruised easy and was a little too clumsy at times. It was never a surprise to anyone that I constantly found myself tripping over my own two feet (a certain blonde haired terrorist—I mean… _friend_ was always there to remind me of my gracelessness). Things had gotten to the point where she carried a first aid kit whenever we went out.

Yet in the midst of receiving antiseptic and bandages, self-preservation managed to overcome my laziness.

All that I was dealing with was only the start. It was only the foreshadowing to things that were much greater, things that were so much worse. From discrimination, to broken bones and countless bruises, to having to put my life on the line… I was _destined_ for all of that.

 _This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all._

The thought left a better taste in my mouth, but it had to be done. So I rehearsed. I thought about the pros and cons, how to manipulate my baby features to my advantage. Yet on the day of my fourth birthday, when I politely and _very cutely_ asked to start taking on some form of martial arts (or just _anything_ to strengthen this weak body of mine), I was given a stare. It went from confusion, to disbelief, to worry. To be completely honest, it was an amusing sight.

Until she passive aggressively said no. Shit.

I tried using some crocodile tears, a few hiccups here and there. Made sure I did this enough to give my cheeks and eyes a hue similar to that of tomatoes.

She didn't budge. Double shit.

The confrontation had ended with me childishly marching away, pout and all. For a moment, I thought back to where my brilliantly simple and clearly ineffective plan could have possibly failed. Did I throw too much of a tantrum, or did I catch my mother at a bad time? Or perhaps… she was being too overprotective? I didn't think it would be strange to have children start training so early. I saw it in my past life all the time.

Plus it was my birthday! My old mother would have definitely folded.

(But this wasn't my old mom. No, she was gone, gone, _gone_ —)

The gears in my head quickly began to hum and whirl then. They slowly fit together the pieces of a developed scheme as a devilish smile overtook my lips, an expression that was certainly not meant to go with Izuku's bright, angel-like face.

I'd finally realized what I had to do.

* * *

" _Well… yes, I do have a reason for hating All Might. Yes, I also realize I hate a lot of things. One of those things, for instance, would be that abomination you have for a face—Ouch! What the fuck?!" - Lucas_

* * *

"You know, that's not very nice, Kacchan."

The way he looked at me suggested that I had suddenly grown three heads. Or that perhaps my hair at long last turned into actual broccoli. (I had gingerly reached towards my green locks, finding comfort in the fact that no, they were not replaced with meager vegetables.) The feeling was only reinforced when his two lackeys copied the his exact reaction, just like the mindless drones they were.

"Who cares about being nice?" he said almost incredulously, as if he believed me to be _stupid_ for even bringing up such a notion. However, I could only wince upon seeing one of his minions, the kid with blood red-wings, throw another stone at the crying boy on the ground.

The poor thing was holding himself, rocking back and forth. I could even hear the faint cries of "mommy, mommy, where are you?" It was pathetic.

The gentle breeze and warm sun that had graced the field didn't feel right with the scene playing out before me.

"I mean, all he did was bump into you," I started out, casually snatching one of remaining stones on the ground. It earned a cry of protest from the child with tree-like fingers, as I had apparently "stole" one from his pile, "... Do you guys have to bully him like this? You're better than that, Bakagou."

"It's _Ba-ku-gou_ , idiot Izuku! Say that again and we're gonna teach you a lesson instead!" he snapped, crimson eyes lit with a barely concealed fury. I scoffed at that. While his glare clearly evolved in his later years, at that moment in time, it did little more than amuse me. Baby fat was hardly terrifying.

However, it was also in that moment my IQ seemed to drop down into the negatives. (Or perhaps it escalated, maybe multiplied tenfold—it really depended on who was being asked.)

I tossed the stone in my hand, a sense of satisfaction running through me as it connected with its blonde target, "Do it then! Wussy."

The sounds of mini explosions rang throughout the air as the faintest trace of a smile graced my face.

…

Let's just say I managed to land those martial arts lessons not too long afterwards.


End file.
